


Il Fiore

by slashyrogue



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Post-Season/Series 03, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyrogue/pseuds/slashyrogue
Summary: Will Graham’s body was laid to rest on a Tuesday.Sixteen years later, Il Fiore kills for the first time.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 204





	Il Fiore

**Author's Note:**

> I just found this in my computer and I know I wrote it based off something someone said on twitter last year but I can't remember the person's name but I remember sharing it with them at the time. I think? 
> 
> If it's you please let me know and I'll gift this to you and give you credit in the summary for the prompt.

Will Graham’s body was laid to rest on a Tuesday.

Hannibal did not attend the services though he watched some of the coverage on the local news, wine in hand, and tears in his eyes while Will’s wife laid flowers on his grave. The reports suggested Hannibal himself had murdered him and made Will out to be a hero for attempting to bring him down.

He knew better.

The joy of the kill in Will’s eyes and the look of love as they held each other got him through that first few weeks.

Cultivating a new life for himself got him through those next sixteen years.

He traveled abroad, sampling cuisine he had not yet experienced and indulging in pleasures of the flesh with nameless faces that got him through the quiet nights. Murder he did not allow himself to pursue, the orgasmic euphoria of the Red Dragon’s death he’d experienced with Will did not seem to be something he could forget.

Which was why when he saw the first death in Venice Hannibal was intrigued.

The body was splayed open as if it were being dissected and filled with white roses, yellow daffodils, and daisies. The meanings were not lost on him: Sympathy, Renewal, and Transformation. This killer felt as if they had become something different and been renewed.

There were no other killings after that first though Hannibal was amused by the name they gave the fledgling killer.

Il Fiore.

The Flower Killer’s murder had been planned, obviously, but sloppy. Hannibal was sure that they had attempted to get every part of the tableau correct in order to put some sort of meaning in the death, but still they were unrefined. He did not expect them to kill a second time.

Then of course the following year four men were found dead in their homes filled with flowers and Il Fiore was dubbed a serial killer.

The men were filled with the same flowers, though added in calla lilies and the precise removal of a very vital organ made this different.

They were all missing their hearts.

Hannibal stayed in Florence despite knowing he may be recognized there even in his advanced age, and combed the daily papers for any sign of Il Fiore over the next year.

Nothing.

He was enchanted by this killer, his blood boiled with need, and on the very last day of that year he did something unexpected.

He committed his first murder in over seventeen years.

The man had been ill tempered to him at a café that day, bumping Hannibal’s chair as he went by and causing the spill of his wine across the book he was reading.

No apology made him follow the man back to his home and plan out his murder.

Hannibal of course added in the element of flowers, had to really, and filled him with purple and white lilacs. He felt renewed after, happy, and when he went to bed that night for the first time he did not dream of Will Graham.

He dreamt of Il Fiore.

Four months later and three years after the start of Il Fiore’s murders, Hannibal sat down at his favorite café for lunch and was given a red carnation by the waiter.

“Thank you,” he said softly, amused, “Is this an added compliment from the chef?”

The waiter shook his head. “The young man told me to give it you, sir.”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. “Young man?”   
  


“Yes, he had brown hair and very blue eyes.”

He stood and tossed money down on the table. “Thank you for the meal. I must be going. Did you happen to see where he went off to?”

His waiter pointed back into the café and Hannibal rushed through, desperate to find his admirer. This moment felt as if it had been coming for a very long time and the thought of waiting another year was devastating.

“Excuse me?” he asked several people as he passed, “Did you see….?”

The strangers all sent him in the same direction, spoke of the “pretty boy” riding off on his bike down the farthest alley. Hannibal was out of breath when he got there, leaning against the wall to calm his wild beating heart, and looked down the alley in hopes to catch a glimpse.

Instead he saw a ghost.

Il Fiore as a pretty young man with brown curly locks, blue eyes, and a smile that could melt ice.

He also looked exactly like a young Will Graham.

Hannibal found himself unable to move.

“Hello, Hannibal,” Il Fiore said, his voice the same as Will’s but with so much more lightness to it.

“Hello.”

The young man got off his motorcycle and walked over with a slow confidence. His smile widened the closer they became and Hannibal felt tears well up in his eyes. 

“Took you long enough,” Will said, reaching out to touch his face.

“This cannot be real.”

“Oh it’s real,” Will joked, shaking his head, “I must’ve done something right for someone to give me a do over.”

“You should have come to me.”

“I didn’t start to remember clearly until three years ago,” Will whispered, “My parents…”

Hannibal put his hand on Will’s cheek and smiled, “It doesn’t matter.”

“I wasn’t sure where you were but this felt like the best place, I’m here on a study abroad program. I’ve been drawing.”

“What have you been drawing, Will?”

“You,” Will said, leaning in closer now till their lips nearly touched, “I’ve been drawing you.”

The kiss was no soft joining but a hard pressed claiming that shook Hannibal to his core. He pulled Will closer and felt Will’s deep sigh as he fell into his arms. They pulled back and smiled at each other.

“Your place?”

“Yes, of course.”

Hannibal pulled him in for another kiss, softer this time, and felt Will’s body respond in kind. He pulled back before things got too indecent, though thoughts of such made him shiver in anticipation.

“You’re not worried you’ll seem like a cradle robber, old man?” Will teased, taking his hand.

“I am more then fine if I can have you with me again,” Hannibal said, “I have waited eighteen years for this and will not let the petty thoughts of others taint it.”

Will pulled him towards the motorcycle parked in the middle of the alley. “Wanna go for a ride, Il Mostro?”

Hannibal kissed him again and smiled. “With you? I would go anywhere.”


End file.
